Agent 21 (13 page)

Zak turned the phone over in his hand. It was cool and everything, but as lifelines went, it didn’t seem like much. ‘I don’t suppose it makes phone calls as well, does it?’ he asked.

Michael smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, it does. But once you’re inside the Martinez compound, you can’t make any.’

‘Why not?’

‘The data connection is secure, but voice messages are easy to intercept. In any case, Martinez’s compound is more than likely to be bugged to high heaven. You need to rely on the fact that we will know
where you are at all times, and not contact us unless you’re dialling the distress code.’

He handed something else to Zak. It was a credit card, platinum in colour, with the words
Coutts & Co
written on it in copperplate. ‘Coutts are a private bank in London. When Harry’s parents died, they left him a lot of money. An account has been set up in his name with a large sum deposited for you to draw on.’

‘How much?’ Zak asked, intrigued.

‘A large sum. Should it start to dwindle, we’ll replenish it. It’s important for your safety that you should be able to get hold of money if you need it, but it would look suspicious if you went for weeks without spending anything and then suddenly let it be seen that you were wealthy. So you need to start spending from day one. Act like a rich kid. Buy whatever you want.’

‘Anything?’ Nobody had ever said this to him before – growing up, money had always been tight.

‘Anything. Clothes, gadgets – if you see something you like, buy it. Even if you don’t like it, buy it. It’s an important part of your cover, and your cover is everything. You can’t give anyone any reason to be suspicious of you. When Frank meets you at the airport, you greet him like a long-lost friend. You don’t talk to him about your real reason for being in Mexico City unless you are absolutely sure nobody can
overhear you or even watch your lips moving. Even when you’re alone you’d be wise to keep quiet about it. The best way to make other people believe you really are Harry Gold is to act like you believe it yourself at all times.’

A silence descended on the room. It had all been a lot to take in and Zak felt confused. He was also alarmed by Gabs’s reaction. She was no coward, so for her to be worried about the dangers of infiltrating Martinez’s compound was unnerving.

‘There’s something else you need to know,’ Michael said. He looked at Raf and Gabs. ‘All three of you. The special forces unit will consist of six commandos, and will have an armed helicopter at its disposal with a special forces flight crew. Raphael, Gabriella, you’re to join them. You’ve trained Zak and you know him. I want you there in case he needs any backup. The SF unit will be under your personal command.’

For the first time during that meeting, Gabs smiled. Not a smile of happiness, but of relief.

‘The commandos will be taken from the Counter Revolutionary Warfare wing of the SAS,’ he continued. ‘This means they’re highly vetted and the closest we can get to an entirely secure unit. They are also well used to deniable missions. And
this
, ladies and gentlemen, is very much a deniable mission. That means that if anything goes wrong,
the British government will deny all knowledge.’

Michael looked at each of them in turn. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind, I’d like a few words with Zak alone.’

Raf and Gabs looked a bit surprised, but they didn’t argue. As she walked past Zak towards the door, Gabs gave him an encouraging little smile. And then he was alone with Michael.

The old man didn’t speak for a minute. He just looked at Zak with those intense green eyes. In the end, Zak couldn’t hold his gaze and he glanced downwards.

‘You probably think,’ Michael said finally, ‘that I’m treating you rather badly.’

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Zak said, and it was the truth.

‘You need to understand that I wouldn’t be activating you if I didn’t think that you were up to the job. But that doesn’t mean you have to go. There’s no obligation. The choice is yours.’

Zak thought about that for a moment before replying. ‘When I first came here, you said you’d tell me about my parents when the time was right. I think the time is right now. Tell me what you know and maybe I’ll think about going to Mexico.’

Michael inclined his head. ‘I don’t blame you for trying to negotiate, Zak. It’s what I’d do in your
situation. But I’m afraid the answer’s still no. The time will come when you’ll understand why but that time hasn’t arrived yet. You need to make a decision without any thoughts of your parents clouding your judgement. And you need to make it now, Zak.’

Zak stood up. He walked over to the tall windows and looked out over the island. The sun that had been so bright when he woke up was now clouded over. It didn’t surprise Zak – the weather could change so quickly in this remote place and now it looked as windy and bleak as it always did.

‘What happens if I say no?’ he asked.

‘Then you stay here with Raphael and Gabriella. Continue your training and wait for something more’ – Michael sounded like he was searching for a word – ‘more
appropriate
to come along. Of course, if you continue to refuse activation, there’s a limit to how long you’ll remain useful to us.’

‘And what then?’

‘What then indeed.’

Another pause.

‘I’ll do you a deal,’ Michael said.

That made Zak turn around. ‘I didn’t think you were in the habit of making deals,’ he said.

‘I’m not. But in this instance . . . Go to Mexico. Infiltrate the Martinez compound. Try to find the evidence we need. If you don’t, we’ll pull you out and
bring you back here. Either way I promise you – and it is a solemn promise – that next time we meet, I’ll tell you what happened to your parents.’

Michael’s face was serious. So serious that it didn’t even occur to Zak to doubt him.

‘You can pull me out any time?’ he asked.

‘Any time,’ Michael replied.

Zak nodded then turned to look out of the window again. ‘What if Cruz doesn’t take a shine to me?’ he asked. ‘A lot of people don’t at school. I mean,
didn’t
.’

Michael walked up to where Zak was standing. He stood next to him and also gazed out across the bleak scenery. ‘The secret to a successful operation,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘is not to leave anything to chance.’ He put one hand on Zak’s shoulder. ‘Cruz will take a shine to you. Martinez too, for that matter. I can absolutely promise you that. We’ve got it all worked out.’

It started to spit with rain, but compared to a drug lord’s compound, this bleak island no longer felt so unwelcoming.

‘What happens if this Martinez guy doesn’t get brought to justice?’ Zak asked.

‘Families will continue to die. Innocent children. And not just in Mexico, Zak. The drugs that he sends into the UK ruin more lives than we can even count.’

Zak dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand.
He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and didn’t have the courage to take the final step.

‘Yes or no, Zak. That’s all you have to say. Your decision.’

Zak took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the picture of Cruz staring from the whiteboard into the room, then he looked back out of the window at the darkening sky.

And finally he spoke.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Michael nodded. ‘Good. Then you need to listen carefully, Zak. I promised you that Cruz was to become your best friend. This is how we’re going to do it . . .’

One week later

‘Another Coke, Mr Gold?’

Zak smiled up at the air hostess. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Why not? Thanks.’

Harry Gold’s booking on flight VS892 from London Heathrow to Mexico City International Airport was in first class, which meant his seat was large – and spacious enough to convert into a bed – and he could ask for pretty much anything he liked. Trouble was, although he thought he was doing a good job of pretending to be used to such luxury, inside he was churned up. He flicked through the films available on his personal TV set. Nothing grabbed him, so he forced down a meal of smoked salmon and rare beef, washed down with a couple more Cokes, then slept for the remainder of the journey.

Once they’d landed, he had to wait ages for his luggage – two expensive Louis Vuitton suitcases that he had bought on a shopping spree in Harrods just a couple of days ago.

It had been a strange week. The day after his long conversation with Michael, a helicopter had arrived to escort him off the island. Michael and Raf had shaken his hand; Gabs had been on the verge of tears. She’d handed him a present, wrapped up in blue tissue paper. Zak had unwrapped it to find a belt. ‘But not an ordinary belt,’ Gabs had said. ‘Look.’ She’d loosened the buckle to pull out a thin, exquisitely sharp blade. Zak couldn’t help thinking the gift was a bit like Gabs herself. Stylish, elegant . . . but deadly. ‘Be careful, sweetie,’ she’d said. ‘Remember everything you’ve learned.’ And then she’d hugged him.

The chopper had escorted him back over the rough waters to the Scottish mainland, south into England and had set him down on a deserted helipad ten miles west of St Albans. There, a car was waiting. It was a black Daimler with tinted windows; the driver was grim-faced and didn’t speak a word to Zak as he navigated to the M1, drove him into London and dropped him off outside a grand mansion block in Knightsbridge. Zak had known for some months that Harry Gold had a flat just off the Brompton Road,
but he hadn’t really expected to have full use of it. It was huge. The kitchen itself was bigger than the ground floor of his uncle and aunt’s house and the fridge was stuffed full of food; there were three bedrooms and a games room with a full-size snooker table, a Wii, a PlayStation and an Xbox. Zak had felt a brief pang that he had nobody to share all this with. For an irrational moment he thought of calling Ellie – he even got so far as pulling out his specially modified iPhone to dial the number, but he stopped himself at the last second. He knew how stupid that would be. No, he’d just have to stick it out, anonymous, in this luxurious flat until the time came to travel to Mexico.

Whenever he did step outside – to go shopping or just to get some air – he kept his hood firmly over his head. London was a big place, but it was perfectly possible that someone from his previous life might recognize him. That would mean some explaining that he
really
didn’t want to do.

The moment to leave had arrived quickly, and now here he was, suitcases in hand, walking into the arrivals lounge of Mexico City International Airport, Terminal 2. It was 5 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, but the place was busy. An echoing public address system piped flight information into the terminal in Spanish; Zak was slightly surprised to realize that he could
instantly translate it. All around him his fellow passengers appeared eager to get into the terminal: there were serious-faced businessmen wearing suits and carrying briefcases; holidaymakers in bright shirts; families rushing towards each other to hug and be reunited. Zak felt separate from all of them as they hurried past him. He set his suitcases on the ground and scanned a small crowd of waiting cab drivers. There were about ten of them, all holding pieces of cardboard scrawled with the names of the passengers for whom they were waiting. Their skin was swarthy and sweaty, and they all wore rough clothes.

Beside this crowd of cab drivers, one man stuck out. He was taller than the others by a good head height, and older too with a lined face and sharp, narrow eyes. Unlike the cab drivers, his skin was white and his head almost entirely bald. Zak immediately recognized him from a picture Michael had shown him. Even if he hadn’t, the knowing stare with which he fixed Zak would have revealed his identity. Zak gave him a nervous smile and walked in his direction.

‘Young Harry!’ the man said. His loud voice didn’t suit his thin body. ‘Let your old uncle Frank have a look at you, lad. Last time we met you were just a babe in arms.’

Zak felt like he was on stage. ‘Hi, Uncle Frank,’ he said, dropping his suitcases and holding out one hand.
Frank ignored it and embraced Zak instead, grabbing him in a big bear hug. ‘Keep it up,’ he whispered, barely loud enough for Zak to hear over the noise of the airport. ‘We can talk in the car.’ He let go of Zak. ‘I’ll take one of those, hey?’ he said, his voice loud again. He picked up a suitcase and together they walked towards the exit.

The moment Zak walked out of the airport terminal, it was like stepping into a wall of heat. His skin tingled with sweat and humidity and he felt like he was breathing in a furnace. ‘Warm day,’ Frank observed. ‘Not as hot as it has been, but I suppose it’s a bit parkier in grey old London.’

‘Yeah,’ Zak replied. ‘You could say that.’

Frank had parked nearby. His car was nothing special – an old Ford that looked as if it had seen better days. Zak’s suitcases just fitted in the boot, and when he took his place in the front, his skin smarted against the hot plastic covering of the seats. Frank started the engine and flicked a switch on the dashboard. ‘Important to have air conditioning in Mexico City,’ he said. ‘It’s one of the most polluted places on earth.’ And then, in a lower voice: ‘In more ways than one.’ He pulled out of the car park and joined a queue of traffic leaving the airport.

They sat in silence for a good fifteen minutes while Zak looked out of the window, checking out Harry’s
new home. Mexico City – at least the bit of it he’d seen so far – was a sprawling, dirty place. A choking cloud of fumes seemed to hover overhead, and the fierce sun glinted off the hundreds of cars that honked and snarled their way around the outskirts.